


Afterlife

by islandsmoke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beginnings, Closure, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-12
Updated: 2011-08-12
Packaged: 2020-01-13 11:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18467596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandsmoke/pseuds/islandsmoke
Summary: Things didn't always go the way Snape thought they would. Death turns out to be no exception.





	Afterlife

**Author's Note:**

> Betas: busaikko and Hogwarts Honey

~~~~

There was something he needed to do. It was important. He needed to wake up.

_Wake up!_

Snape came to himself with a gasp and looked around quickly, nerves on full alert. Almost immediately he suffered a sense of vertigo. He had no sense of orientation as to which way was up, and furthermore, at his feet lay... him. His body, sprawled in a pool of blood on the filthy floor of the Shrieking Shack, looked completely lifeless. He remembered now. The snake's enchanted cage rolling through the air. The searing pain. Then the boy looking at him, taking the memories, the green eyes staring into his....

Snape shuddered and held up his hand, examining it. Through it, he saw the still form of his body on the floor.

His first reaction was anger. He'd been cheated! Death was supposed to be the end. The release, the blessed nothingness of... nothing. Not this! Not a ghost, to wander Hogwarts frightening children.

He closed his eyes, his shoulders drooping and his head tilting back in defeat. He couldn't even die the way that he wanted.

Snape couldn't muster the curiosity to wonder how the battle was going. It didn't matter anymore; it would end how it ended. He had done his part; given his whole adult life to try and make amends for.... He wasn't even sure what, anymore.

The air around him felt different. Fresher, damper, and he had the odd sensation of his surroundings changing without him actually moving anywhere. He opened his eyes and blinked in surprise.

He seemed to be standing. The ground felt solid beneath his feet, and the few feet of it he could see through the thick fog that surrounded him, seemed to be of an ordinary, Scottish variety. A look around didn't tell him much more than that he was standing on a wide path. Instinctively, he reached for his wand, but it wasn’t there. That didn’t surprise him. After turning full circle, he set off in the direction he had first faced.

Why not? It wasn't as though he had anything else to do.

As he walked, he realized that he wasn't in pain. His hand went to his neck, and although it came away with blood from his clothes, the skin itself was smooth and unblemished beneath his warm fingers. He stopped and looked at his hand more closely. It appeared to be solid now.

Shrugging, he set off again. He was certain that the fog was growing lighter before him, and sure enough, a few minutes later the sun burned away the last few wisps of mist.

His surroundings looked like typical highland moors. The path was wide and smooth through a rocky field of blooming heather. Shortly, he came upon a smaller path, branching off to the right, climbing and disappearing around the shoulder of the hill. He stopped to consider. The smooth, level path was obviously the best maintained, but the other, while narrow, was worn deep where it scrambled up the steep slope.

He headed up the hill. He'd never taken the easy path before, he mused. Why start now?

Bees were busy in the heather, giddy with the abundance of nectar. The tiny drops of water left by the fog clung to every leaf and blossom and glittered like a handful of strewn diamonds in the sun. The air was warm, and drugged with the smell of the flowering plants.

Before long, the hem of Snape's cloak was soaked with water from the greenery crowding the path, and as it was getting quite warm, he removed it. The right shoulder and back were stiff with blood, and after a moment's consideration, he folded it and shoved it down behind a rock. He didn't know where he was, or what lay ahead, but he was fairly certain that the cloak would be irrelevant.

The path was quite steep now, requiring an almost all-fours scramble in places, but the shoulder of the hill was close, and Snape was no exception to the need that grips all hikers to see what lay beyond.

Finally, he stood panting on the ridge, his eyes sweeping over the view before him. It was a spectacular view of more of exactly the same sort of countryside. Snape snorted and wiped his sweating forehead on his sleeve. He didn't know what he'd expected. Halfway down the hill he could see the sun glint off a ribbon of water, but closer to hand, he could hear the splash and gurgle of a quick running stream.

Thinking it might lie hidden in a patch of thick brush to his left, he was about to cut across the heather when he saw a thread of a path leading that way from a few feet downhill of him. Jumping from rock to rock, he made his way to what turned out to be a clear spring, bubbling up in a small sandy pool surrounded by neatly placed stones.

He shed his frock-coat and hastily rolled up his sleeves as he dropped to his knees by the water. Scooping up handfuls of the sweet, cool liquid, he drank 'till he could hold no more, then moved to the outflow of the pool – a small, earthenware pipe – and washed his hands and arms. Ducking his head, he rinsed the dried blood from his hair and face.

Drying off as best he could with a clean spot on his coat, he felt more refreshed than he had in ages. Discarding the coat in the same manner as he had the cloak, he continued on down the little path that followed the stream into a dense copse.

A few minutes later, the wood opened out into a field full of grass and flowers. He scrambled over the style in the stone wall, and turned left toward an ancient apple tree. The smell of sun-warmed apples stirred his hunger, and he plucked a ripe fruit from the heavily laden tree. The skin snapped under the force of his bite, flooding his mouth with delicious sweet-tart juice. He munched happily until a thought stopped him in mid-chew. How was it that there were ripe apples at the same time the heather was in bloom?

Snape chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed and took another bite. He didn't suppose it mattered. The apple was tasty and satisfying, and he had the feeling that it might be the least of the things he didn't understand here.

He was starting on his second apple when he saw them. Two people with their arms around each other on the next hill over. Though they were at some distance, he could see them clearly, and instantly recognized both. A chill gripped him as he recognized Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. Or was she Nymphadora Lupin now? His arm fell to his side as he stared. Were they dead, too? He'd heard there was a child.

Shaking himself, he bit down savagely on the apple. He had no right to the feelings that twisted his insides; no right to feel the sting of jealousy. Lupin was not his, had never been his. He'd seen to that. He pushed the man away time and again, until he had finally taken Snape at his word and left for good.

He hadn't had any choice! It was far too dangerous to allow anyone to get close to him. Had the Dark Lord learned that he cared for someone, that person would be in mortal danger. Besides, Lupin hadn't really cared. He couldn't have, or he wouldn't have been so quick to marry Tonks.

On the far hillside, the two moved apart just the slightest bit. He cupped her face and kissed her forehead, then, almost as though feeling Snape's gaze, he lifted his eyes and stared straight at Snape.

Snape's whole body tingled with the force of that look, and he shivered when Lupin turned back once more to Tonks. He seemed to speak, then leaned down and kissed her; a lingering, gentle kiss. She stroked his cheek, then turned to look over at Snape. He gasped in shock as she lifted her arm to wave before she turned and walked away.

Snape was still staring at her retreating back when he came to with a start. Lupin was walking toward him, a tentative smile on his lips. He was close – surely he hadn't had time to cross the distance? Too close for Snape to turn and walk away, so he straightened his spine and raised his chin.

"Severus." Lupin was a bit breathless. Like Snape, he had discarded his robes and was in brown trousers and a pale yellow shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His skin seemed to have acquired a healthy tan, and his tousled hair was decidedly less grey. "Did you just get here?"

"Where is here?" Snape remained stiff, trying to ignore how closely Lupin was standing.

"Not sure, really." Lupin looked around at the peaceful, sunny field. "Doesn't seem too bad, though."

"Looks can be deceiving." Snape wasn't about to relax just yet.

"That they can." Lupin eyed him curiously. "For instance, you look positively frightened."

"I most certainly am not!" Snape was indignant.

Lupin laughed and moved even closer. Snape refused to back down. "No, I've never known you to fear much of anything." He gazed into Snape's eyes, and Snape wondered if Lupin's eyes always been that warm, golden-brown color.

"He did it, Severus. Harry. He defeated Voldemort and lived to tell about it. _You_ did it; you gave him what he needed to win and to live."

"He did?" Snape's throat was tight. "I did?"

Lupin reached up and slipped a hand around the back of Snape's neck. "You." And then Lupin was kissing him, softly, gently, coaxingly. He shivered and surrendered to the kiss. He wanted this, he'd _earned_ this.

But....

Snape pulled back. "Your wife."

"Tonks?"

"You have another?"

"No need to be snippy." Lupin’s voice was mild as he gazed up at the trees behind Snape. "Things are different here; I'm not sure we're still married. Oh, I love her, always will. She's the mother of my child, after all."

He suddenly looked down, his eyes brimming with tears.

"I'm sorry." Snape felt stiff and inadequate as he rested a hand on Lupin's arm.

Lupin brushed the tears away with the back of his hand. "'S all right. He'll have a good life. Harry's his godfather, you know."

Snape groaned and tried not to roll his eyes.

Lupin gave a watery laugh. "Well, yeah, but.... He'll be loved. Tonks and I are friends." He shuffled his feet a bit. "We shouldn't have married in the first place. I was upset, lonely." He looked sideways at Snape.

"What are you talking about?" Snape was totally off balance.

"I came to love her, but she's not the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with." He looked a bit wistful. “Nor was I the one she wanted most, though she could not be faulted as a wife.”

“I don't understand.”

“She loved Bill Weasley. Always had.” Lupin sighed. “We were two lonely people, just wanting to be loved.”

“Weakness.” There was an edge to Snape's voice that he didn't fully understand.

Lupin smiled sadly. “Perhaps. But we are not all as strong as you. Few people are.”

Snape was at a loss for words, but Lupin didn't seem to notice; he was looking around. “Shall we go?”

“Where?” Snape was beginning to resent being so out of balance.

Lupin shrugged. “This way?” He gestured toward a path heading off into the copse.

“Why not.” Snape drew himself up and nodded decisively.

They climbed back over the style and headed off among the trees. The air was soft and fragrant with the smell of pine, and before long they were back out in the sun. A small stone cottage nestled against the hill in front of them. A low wall surrounded a patch of grass in front of it, and it was lined with flower beds showing a riot of color.

Lupin walked up the path to the front door.

“You live here?” Snape couldn't help feeling nervous as he entered the house.

“I seem to.” Lupin was looking around the tidy living room with interest.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Lupin grinned hugely. “No idea.” Snape twitched in irritation, and he went on. “This is a funny place, Severus, but you get used to it.”

“How long have you been here?” Snape didn't like what he couldn't understand.

“No idea.” Lupin's grin was still in place.

“Do you know _anything?_ ” Snape was getting angry.

Lupin pursed his lips. “Not really, but.... It doesn't seem to matter. There isn't.... That is....” He ran his hand through his hair. “You know things. That is, I seem to. If you just let things be, Severus, just accept what's here and how you feel about it....” He looked at Snape beseechingly. “Just go with it, see what happens.”

“Ridiculous.” Snape looked about wearily; outside the sun had been covered by gathering clouds of steely grey.

Lupin reached up and stroked Snape's cheek. “I've loved you for so long.” His voice was soft, his smile wistful.

Snape felt a thrill of excitement flush through his body. “You.... You have?” He voice was a weak croak.

Strong arms enfolded Snape in a gentle embrace as Lupin nuzzled under the curtain of hair that covered Snape's ear. “Please....” The breath whispered over Snape's skin, and he closed his eyes as he leaned into Lupin's body.

_Surely.... Could it be that...? But...._

The raw need in Lupin's kiss seared through Snape's brain, and he gave up all pretense of resistance. Might as well; his body had already surrendered to Lupin's touch. He hadn't gotten this hard, this fast, since he was a teenager.

Eager hands were undoing buttons, pushing his shirt from his shoulders and fumbling at his belt. He stiffened. He was no virgin, but his encounters since the advent of teaching, being made Head of House, and then becoming a double agent, had been mostly of the one-off variety; quick fumblings and release in darkened corners and damp alleys, or carefully plotted political maneuverings. He hadn't been totally naked with another human being for longer than he cared to remember.

Lupin pulled back and touched his cheek. “Is this all right?”

At a loss for words, Snape just nodded.

“If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” Lupin's lips were on his neck, heading south. “You let me know.” 

Snape nodded again, his eyes closed. He doubted that Lupin, who was gently pulling his trousers and pants down his legs, was paying much attention. Then warm breath was moving across his balls, and a broad, strong tongue licked up the underside of his cock, swirled around the tip, and....

Severus wound his fingers in Lupin's shaggy hair and tugged. “Bed.” He didn't want to embarrass himself by having his knees give out.

Not knowing how it was accomplished – and not caring – Snape found himself naked and flat on his back on a comfortable bed, Lupin's heavy body pinning him down while he covered Snape's face and neck with rough kisses. Snape ran his hands down Lupin's flanks, then allowed one to creep between their bodies, burrowing between Lupin's legs. Lupin lifted his hips slightly, and Snape cupped his heavy balls in his hand.

_Oh, gods...._

After the so-called prank, once Snape has known for sure that Lupin was a werewolf, he had combed the library looking for proof – one way or the other – of the rumors about werewolf endowment. He hadn't found any, and the mystery had only heightened his brooding fascination with the honey-haired boy that had started their first year. Monster or not, spineless toady of two bullies or not, Lupin had intrigued him.

And now he knew. He groaned shamelessly as his hand closed around the biggest cock he had ever encountered. His mouth watered and his throat ached at the idea of trying to take it all down. And even though he hadn't bottomed since shortly after school, had only bottomed for one man in his life, Snape _wanted_ this cock. Wanted to feel it stretching him, filling him impossibly full, wanted to feel it slamming into him.

“Want you!” Lupin's guttural growl sent shivers through Snape and his legs spread of their own volition, inviting that beautiful, _huge_ cock to claim him.

Lupin kissed and nipped his way down Snape's torso until he settled himself between Snape's legs, took a firm grip on the base of Snape's ready cock, and....

Snape thought he would come instantly and might have but for Lupin's grip, when that hot, wicked mouth closed over his sensitive member. He'd been sucked before, and by some damn talented mouths, but never....

He was shaking when Lupin quit his cock and moved down to his balls, drawing first one, then the other, into his mouth, sucking, tonguing, tugging.... Then Lupin was nudging the backs of Snape's thighs, encouraging him to lift them. He did, grasping the backs of his knees and pulling his legs up and apart, shamelessly exposing himself to Lupin, welcoming him for whatever he might wish to do. Lupin's mouth moved lower.

Snape heard what his muddled brain at first though was a growl, but what he then realized from a slight tingling was a charm of some sort, and then Lupin....

Snape's brain nearly exploded. No one had ever.... He'd never felt....

Snape was a quiet fucker, so to speak. No moans, no groans, no embarrassing whimpers or noises of any kind. So who, a small part of his brain wondered vaguely, was making all that noise? As Lupin's slick fingers replaced his tongue inside Snape and pushed in searching, finding, stroking, _someone_ cried out, then subsided into a steady babble of humiliating begging and pleading.

And now Lupin's mouth was closing over his cock once again, and with strong, unhurried strokes, and a deft application of pressure to his prostate, he brought Snape off.

Snape came so hard the world turned black at the edges. He might even have passed out had someone not been shouting in his ear.

Lupin surged up over his body, catching Snape's legs with his arms and keeping them forward. His mouth was on Snape's neck as he rasped, “Need to fuck you _now._ ”

Snape felt the tip of that huge cock nudging at him and could only whimper in response. Lupin took it as permission, however, and pushed steadily forward, burying himself inch by relentless inch inside Snape's trembling body.

_Dear gods! So big.... So hard.... So good!_ Snape gasped and his eyes flew open. Surely he hadn't said those things aloud?

Above him, Lupin was staring down at him with a look of such fierce pleasure that Snape's body responded instantly by bucking up against Lupin as hard as he could. It wasn't much, given that he was folded almost in half, but Lupin responded by snapping his hips forward faster, harder.

Snape raked his nails down Lupin's back, then dug them into his backside in an attempt to get more of him inside. He _needed_ this, needed to feel that huge cock plowing into him, needed to feel those great balls empty inside him, flooding him with....

_Was he talking out loud again?_

Lupin gave a final thrust and moaned deep in his chest. Snape clamped down hard and felt that glorious cock twitch and spasm inside him. He could swear he felt the surge of come as Lupin climaxed.

~~

Lupin lay soundly asleep, one arm draped casually across Snape's midsection. Snape shifted until Lupin, drawing a deep breath, rolled over and settled back into sleep.

Snape didn't like cuddling. He hadn't even slept in the same bed with anyone since... well, he wasn't sure he ever had. He liked topping because he didn't have to take his clothes off, for Merlin’s sake!

He looked over at the back of Lupin's head. Lupin had brought him off first; he had made Snape's pleasure a priority. No one did that. Sex, in Snape's experience, was – when not being used as a tool or weapon – for oneself. Alone was fine, though sometimes it was better with someone else. He'd never been flexible enough to suck himself off and therefore couldn't self-satisfy the need to suck or be sucked, so yes, sometimes it _was_ better with someone else. And there was, he admitted, a fair amount of emotional satisfaction – as well as the obvious physical – to be had from fucking the stuffing out of snotty young Death Eaters, but this... this had been different.

Snape fretted.

He had no clue as to whether or not there was another bedroom in the house. There was a couch, but it hadn't looked overly comfortable for sleeping. Too soft, from the brief look he's had of it. Clearly, some wandless magic worked here, but he doubted he was up to transforming the couch without a wand into something worth sleeping on.

Besides, Lupin might be interested in another go in the morning. _When had it become night?_ And if he did, well, Snape didn't really want to miss out, now did he? He squirmed his hips a little. He was just a bit sore, a rather satisfying feeling, actually, and not at all what he would have expected after such a... _rambunctious_... encounter.

Snape sighed and rolled onto his side facing away from Lupin. It was raining, and the room was chilly. A rather pleasant heat was radiating off the werewolf, and he was sure the floor would be cold. Perhaps, if Lupin didn't toss and turn too much, Snape might do just as well staying where he was for the night, rather than go looking for another nest.

~~

Snape sighed and stirred. He didn’t really want to wake up just yet, but his bladder was becoming quite insistent. First his hearing registered the sound of pounding rain, then his eyes blinked open to find the room was filled with a dim, grey light. Morning, sometime. Lupin still appeared to be sleeping soundly, so Snape padded off in search of the loo. It turned out to be right where you would expect it to be, and after a hurried visit, Snape climbed back under the covers next to Lupin.

Why not? There wasn’t anything exactly pressing that he had to attend to, and the werewolf was warm. And…

Lupin was lying on his back, the covers pushed down to his waist with one leg folded on top of them. The only part of him that was covered was one leg and his hips. Snape sat up and studied him without embarrassment. His chest was lightly furred, and the hair trailed down a tantalizing path to disappear under the sheet. His cock, which looked to be semi-tumescent, was deliciously outlined. Lupin stirred slightly, his finger tips brushing over his own member which responded with a hopeful twitch, stiffening a bit more.

Snape’s mouth watered. He loved sucking cock. _Loved_ it. Any cock was good, but big ones were better, and the bloody werewolf had the biggest he’d ever seen.

Cautiously, Snape slid the covers down a little more until Lupin’s genitals were in full view. The bollocks were the size of goose eggs, for Salazar’s sake, and that cock! The blushing tip was just starting to peek out of the foreskin as it swelled with a morning erection.

It could have been Christmas morning with a stocking full of gifts at the foot of the bed and Snape wouldn’t have noticed. All he wanted was right there, twitching sleepily in a nest of honey-brown curls, calling to him. He reached out, touching it lightly, almost reverently, sliding the foreskin back to reveal the magnificent, purpling head. He couldn’t resist. Settling himself comfortably, he bent forward and _licked_. Then again, across the head. That beautiful beast of a cock leapt in his hand and rewarded him with a drop of glistening pre-come. He couldn’t help the soft moan that was almost immediately stifled as he slid that tasty monster into his mouth.

Snape closed his eyes and gave himself over to the pleasure of sucking. He was safe here. He was certain the werewolf wouldn’t have cursed him, even if he could, and really, it had been far too long since he had given himself permission to just _enjoy._ He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, relaxed his throat, and buried his nose in those soft curls. He’d conquered his gag reflex years ago, and relished the feel of Lupin’s cock stretching his throat, sliding all the way down. He stayed like that, working that cock with tongue and throat muscles until his lungs started burning, then he slid lazily back until he could inhale again, mouthing, and tonguing, and licking, teasing more pre-come from the slit.

He was enjoying himself immensely when something occurred to him. Lupin, though he had woken almost immediately and was now being rather noisy, was not doing what Snape considered to be the ‘usual things’. He was not demanding, nor giving orders. His babbling consisted of words of praise and ridiculous terms of endearment – when he was even coherent. There was also the way he touched Snape; he did not grip his hair and try to force himself down Snape’s throat, nor direct him in any way. When he wasn’t fisting the sheets, he touched Snape gently, feathery strokes to his hair or cheek.

This was not a power struggle. This was not normal.

While Snape was a gifted Legilimens, he had probably sucked more secrets out of other men than he’d ever plucked from their minds. Even if concentrating on extracting information had not been a distraction, there was always the issue of power that had infringed on the purity of his cock sucking pleasure.

But not here, not now, not with Lupin. Lupin was simply enjoying whatever Snape chose to do to him, demanding nothing, begging for everything.

Snape’s first reaction was a heady surge of power; he could do what he wished, bring Lupin to make promises of any sort. But…. There was nothing he really wanted from Lupin.

He hesitated in thought, and Lupin whimpered. He licked up the underside of Lupin’s cock and the man gasped and arched up in pleasure. He wasn’t trying to hide his enjoyment, he was giving the expression of it freely, without agenda.

Snape pondered this while sucking on Lupin’s bollocks, and things started to shift for him. He started paying attention to Lupin’s responses, not so he could ask the right questions at the right moments, but so he could learn what Lupin liked best. So he could do it again for no other reason than to watch the sweat spring forth on his body, and to hear the silly things the man said. For no other reason than to please him.

He found, to his surprise, that unlike doing this to gain an end, it did not distract from his own pleasure. It was not an unpleasant discovery, though it did confuse him a little.

And then Lupin was close. Very close. Snape used his talents to forestall his climax, to back him off, to bring him to the edge again, and again. It was a heady experience, not – the way it usually was – because of the power it gave him over Lupin, but because the man was so clearly loving it. Those long, lean muscles bunched and flexed as Lupin tried desperately not to just grab Snape’s head and just _thrust_. He nearly tore the sheets in an effort to control himself and just let Snape do as he wished with him.

Snape shifted himself so he could grind his own straining cock into the mattress, and by the time he brought Lupin shouting and weeping to conclusion, he had already spent himself against the sheets.

~~

Outside the sturdy little stone cottage, a storm howled across the moor, the rain sluicing down the window over the sink where Snape did the washing up. The view of the rain-swept hillside was almost obscured by the fury of the elements, but inside all was cozy. Though their magic didn’t work for the domestic chores, everything they needed – or wanted – seemed to be at hand, and they had enjoyed a positively decadent breakfast.

Snape was almost finished when Lupin came up behind him and wrapped his long arms around Snape, pressing against his back. Snape stiffened automatically, and Lupin moved back a fraction, withdrawing his arms until just his hands rested on Snape’s hips.

“Do you not enjoy being touched?” Lupin’s voice was level.

Snape forced his muscles to relax, and thought carefully. “I am not accustomed to it.”

Lupin seemed to consider this, then went on in the same level tone. “Do you think you’d like to become accustomed to it?”

“I think…” Snape frowned in concentration. “I think I’d like to explore the possibility.” He knew it sounded ridiculously pretentious and waited for Lupin to laugh, but the man didn’t. Instead, he moved the hair off the back of Snape’s neck and kissed it gently.

“All right. I’ll just do what comes naturally then, shall I? I _do_ like to touch, so if it’s too much for you, or something makes you uncomfortable, just let me know. I promise I won’t take it personally.” He gave Snape’s hip a squeeze and moved aside, grabbing a towel to dry the dishes.

Snape concentrated on scrubbing the fry-pan. This was all quite alien to him.

~~

The days passed in a relaxed haze. Were they days? Snape wasn't sure, but found himself caring less and less. Outside the storm continued until even the sturdy heather seemed to be beaten down by the rain.

They read and talked, played chess and had exuberant sex in every room of the little house, and they became friends. Remus – _When had he started thinking of him as Remus?_ – was as good as his word; his touches were casual: a trailing hand across Snape’s back as they passed in the narrow hall, a touch on the wrist as they prepared meals together, a light hug from behind while Snape did the washing up. Snape found himself relaxing, even looking forward to these touches, but it was a while before it occurred to him that he could do the same. Remus made no note of it the first time Snape laid a hand on his arm during a conversation by the fire one evening, but his eyes lit with a warmth that almost took Snape’s breath away.

Gradually, the sex changed. Oh, it was always extraordinarily satisfying, but now even more so as they spent time exploring each others' bodies, finding all the spots that were sensitive to a kiss or touch, learning how to wring the most pleasure from their time together. Slowly, he gave himself up to his long-suppressed feelings for Remus, and their relationship blossomed.

~~

Severus lay on his back in a sated haze; Remus was snoring gently beside him, boneless in his sleep. Could it have been like this in life? Severus stared at the ceiling of their cozy cottage. Could this be what people talked about, hungered for, fought for? He looked over at Remus. Had he known, would he have given himself up to this and forsaken his task?

No. He would have done what he needed to do.

Was he being rewarded?

He snorted. Not likely. But.... Severus gave up thinking, rolled over, and kissed his lover awake.

~~

The sun was shining again, and the world looked new and shiny clean. Flowers bloomed everywhere in riots of color and scent, and birds were singing from every bush and atop every rock.

Severus stood under the old apple tree watching an unlikely group of animals tearing about the field, chasing around and tumbling over each other. There was a stag, a large black dog, and a rather enormous wolf.

Remus came here, now and then, to be with his friends. Severus didn't like it all that much, but said nothing. This didn't seem like a place for arguing.

The animals noticed him, and with a joyous yelp, the wolf broke from the group and streaked toward Severus. Closer and closer he came, his tongue lolling, drool dripping from great, white fangs as long legs ate up the distance between them. Severus backed against the tree, his world drawing in around him, panic crowding black at the edges of his vision. His hand searched for the wand that wasn't there; he couldn't run, couldn't save himself. The wolf was closing in on him; he smelled the dank smell of earth in a dark tunnel. As the wolf lunged for his throat, he transformed, and it was Remus who collided with him, laughing and breathless, pulling him down in the grass to roll over and over.

Laughing, Remus propped himself up on an elbow and looked into Severus' face.

“Oh, gods, oh no! Severus, no. It's me; I'm sorry. _Fuck!_ How could I be so stupid! Severus....” He buried his face in Severus' neck, holding him tightly and murmuring incoherent words of apology and love.

It seemed an eternity before Severus' world came back to him and his body unfroze enough to allow him to put his arms around Remus. It _was_ Remus; it was. Severus gulped and closed his eyes, hiding his face, ashamed of his terror.

Remus felt him relax and pried his face from the front of his shirt. “Severus, I'm so, so sorry. That was unforgivably stupid of me. Please don't hate me again.”

Severus blinked. “Hate you again? I never hated you.” Remus enfolded him in his arms, and Severus realized that he wasn't angry. It felt... odd. “I think we should maybe work on this, though.”

“Yes, oh, yes.” Remus' eyes were wet. “We'll work on it.”

And work on it they did. In this place, Remus' lycanthropy seemed to have morphed into simple, benign, Animagus ability, and he could transform at will. Every day, he'd become his wolf self and they would walk the moors and woods together. Eventually they played, rolling and tumbling about like any boy and his dog. It was a new and novel sensation for Severus, this letting go and having fun, and one day as he sprawled in the heather ruffling the soft fur behind the ears of the heavy head that lay on his chest, he realized that his fears of the wolf were gone. This was Remus, his Remus, and he loved him just the same in either form.

It came as a bit of a shock to him, but he smiled to himself. It was as if this place let him be... who he wanted to be.

~~

Remus tried to get him to come and join the others when they met, but Severus refused. No matter that Remus said he was welcome, he didn't want to go. And he also doubted his welcome with the others; the times when he went to collect Remus from his play, the others hung back, not meeting his eye.

One day while he sat with his back to the tree, eating one of the seemingly unending supply of ripe apples and watching the three friends frolic in the field, he spotted a woman walking toward him, her long red hair floating in the warm breeze. He was on his feet before he realized it, apple and animals forgotten.

“Lily.” The name came out a hoarse croak.

She stopped a few feet from him and held out her arms. He was in them in a flash, the sweet smell of her hair enfolding and calming him until his mind babbled into silence. She stepped back, pushing her hair behind her ears, then glanced at the ground as though unsure of herself. When she lifted her eyes, Severus was lost in their cool, green depths.

“You saved the world. _You saved my Harry._ ” Her voice was trembling. “Thank you, Severus.”

“I was cruel to him. To you.” Severus didn't know from whence the words came.

“It's OK, Sev.” She touched his cheek. “You're still my hero.”

Severus thought his knees might buckle, so overwhelming was the tide of emotions that swept over him.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted the words.

“Me, too.”

And he knew that everything was understood.

They sat under the tree together, talking and holding hands. It wasn't the way Severus would have imagined; he didn't feel smug, or triumphant; it just felt... right. The warmth where her shoulder brushed his, the delicate fingers that lay trustingly in his hand, all this brought a feeling of peace to Severus that he had never known. He didn't wish to posses her, he didn't even want to take her home. Home, he realized with a bit of a shock, meant Remus.

Lily shivered. The sun had gone in, and the breeze had cooled. Severus looked across the field to see Remus approaching, his face alight with pleasure. A way behind him, James and Sirius stood with arms folded, scowling.

“Lils!” Remus swept her up into a hug that took her clean off her feet. She laughed as he set her down again. “You look wonderful.”

She punched his arm. “You always were a bold-faced flatterer.” She slewed a glance at Severus. “You're looking rather fabulous yourself.”

Remus flushed, and Severus realized with a bit of a shock just how good Remus _was_ looking. Yes, he thought Remus looked _really_ good, but now he realized that he also looked younger. Even younger than when he had first seen him across the field with Tonks. More grey was gone from his hair, more wrinkles were smoothed from his face. He suddenly wondered what _he_ looked like; their tiny cottage had no mirror. He shook himself out of his thoughts. Lily was leaving.

“Will we see you again?” Remus was holding her hand.

“Count on it.” She smiled up at him, then turned and planted a sweet kiss on Severus' cheek, waved and was gone across the grass to where the two men still glowered.

Severus saw them exchange words, then Lily planted her fists on her hips and tossed her hair back, clearly giving James and Sirius a piece of her mind. The men obviously backed down, and they headed in the opposite direction together, backs stiff.

There was a low rumble of thunder and it started to rain.

“Come on!” Remus grabbed Severus' hand and sprinted for the cover of the trees. Once under their thick branches on the path toward home they were protected from the rain. Severus didn't release Remus' hand as they walked in silence.

“Remus?” Severus squirmed, uncomfortable with feeling so needy.

“Hm?”

“What do I look like?” He tried for a tone of utmost indifference but knew that he failed. Remus stopped walking and turned toward him. “I mean, I know I'm an ugly, greasy git – always have been – but you look... well... younger than you did... before... and I was wondering....” He felt uncharacteristic heat in his face and hated himself.

Remus' face glowed with a look that made Severus forget his discomfort.

“First of all.” Remus' fingers touched his cheek. “You are not – and never have been – an ugly, greasy git.” His fingers touched Severus' lips, silencing him when he started to argue.

“And yes.” He gripped Severus' chin lightly and turned his face a bit in the dim light of the forest. “I believe you _do_ look younger. Certainly less care-worn.”

He kissed the frown line between Severus' eyes. “Even this is fading a bit.” His tone was teasing.

Severus turned and continued down the path without speaking. Ahead they could see the field in which stood their cottage. The sun was shining again.

In the yard, Severus stopped again, and Remus turned.

“We are dead, aren't we?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Then I haven't just fallen down a rabbit hole or something?”

Remus smiled. “I don't think so.”

“But...” Severus frowned. “What is all this?” He waved his arm. “Is this all there is? All there ever will be? I'm not complaining, mind.” He added hastily. “I just thought there might be... nothing.”

Remus' eyebrows rose. “Would you have preferred that?”

“I don't know. No. Well....” He looked around at the beautiful setting. “I was rather looking forward to the end of it all, to nothingness. Not the awareness of nothing, that's _not_ nothing. Just... nothing.” He looked into Remus' bright golden-brown eyes. “But this is better, obviously. Just....”

Remus put his arms around him and held him lightly. “This isn't what I expected, either. Not that I had any clear expectation of what things would be like.” He stroked Severus' back. “I think I like it though.” He kissed Severus long and lingeringly.

“Mm.” Severus sighed and leaned against him. “Definitely not complaining.”

“I don't think it's all, though.” Remus was thoughtful. “I don't know, I just get the feeling that this is some sort of middle ground, or something. That we're waiting for something.” He kissed Severus again. “Doubt it could be much better, though.”

Severus snorted. “I'm hungry. How about feeding me?”

Remus' eyes glowed. “Whatever you wish, love, whatever you wish.”

~~

Severus was collecting mushrooms in an old apple orchard when he heard footsteps on the road behind him. He wheeled, defenses on full alert, his hand automatically searching for his wand as he saw the sun glinting off a pair of spectacles, and then he recognized the unruly black hair of the man approaching. He stiffened his spine and waited; Potter was wandless as well, after all.

“Snape.” James stopped about eight feet away, well out of Severus' personal space.

“What do you want?” Severus used his peripheral vision to search for any sign of Black sneaking up on him.

“To talk. Just talk.” James glanced around in discomfort.

Severus raised a sarcastic eyebrow but said nothing.

“Yeah, I know.” James stared at the ground for a moment before looking up. “The thing is….” He ran a hand through his unruly hair. “The thing is, well, Harry.”

Severus waited.

“Sirius told me about the Occlumency lessons.” Snape’s wand hand twitched. “He told me how Harry had seen some of your memories. Memories of… of… that day after O.W.L.s. He told me…” James closed his eyes, his expression pained. “He told me that Harry was appalled. My son….” His voice dropped to a whisper. “My son was ashamed of me.”

“Perhaps there’s more of his mother in him than I had thought.” Severus’ voice was tight.

“Perhaps there is.” James met his eyes for the first time. “That opened my eyes as nothing else had.” He took a deep breath. “I took a hard look at myself, and I didn’t like what I saw. Not where it came to you, at any rate.” He swallowed hard. “I was everything Harry accused me of: thoughtless, cruel, an arrogant bully. You hated him because of me, because of what I did to you, and you were unreasonable and cruel to him for no reason other than he was my son. But you also protected him. You even took Dumbledore to task for him.

“I know it wasn’t for his sake; I know why you did it. It doesn’t matter. You….” His voice trailed off. “I underestimated you, Snape.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to you.” He stopped to clear his throat.

“And you expect what? That I will forgive all, and we’ll become friends?”

James gave a choked chuckle. “No. I could hope for you to forgive me, but I have no right to ask for that. As for being friends, I doubt it. It would be nice – for Lily and Remus’ sakes if nothing else – if we didn’t hate each other, but I don’t see us ever liking each other much.”

Severus’ mouth twitched in spite of himself. “No.”

James straightened, clearly more relaxed. “Thank you, Snape. Thank you for protecting my son.”

He was already several steps away when Severus spoke. “Potter.”

James turned.

“Don’t think too much of this, because I’m not sure of it myself, but I don’t seem to hate you any more.”

A grin split James’ face and he lifted his hand in salute before continuing on his way, leaving behind a slightly stunned Severus Snape wondering what had come over him.

That afternoon he was carefully wrapping the mushrooms to keep for tomorrow’s breakfast when the door of the little cottage burst open and a tousled, wind-blown Remus returned from his afternoon romp with his friends. Severus found himself swept up in a rib-crushing hug, spun around and around with Remus declaring, “I love you, I love you, _I love you!"_ before dragging him into the bedroom to show him just how much.

Later, Severus lay gasping and struggling to regain some of his brain functions. Remus was sprawled beside him, an arm draped over his stomach.

“I think,” Severus’ breathing was finally coming under control, “that if this is what not hating Potter gets me, it’s a damn good thing we’ll never be friends. I doubt I’d survive your reaction.”

Remus pulled his elbows under him and smiled lazily at Severus. “Sure you don’t want to try?” At Severus’ look, he went on hurriedly. “Okay, Okay, one step at a time. I’m not asking.” He rolled on top of Severus and kissed his breath away once more. “You know, I don’t need to top all the time.” He brushed Severus’ hair back. “I’m quite versatile.”

Severus felt an uncharacteristic grin spreading over his face. “Are you, now?”

They had a very late dinner that night.

~~

It was sometime later – Severus really couldn’t keep track of the days, let alone the weeks, or was it months? – and Severus was sitting under the old apple tree, eating an apple and watching Remus, Potter and Black walk across the field toward him. They had their arms slung around each others' shoulders; Remus was in the middle. He noted, with considerable interest, that his feelings were very different from the first time he had been in this position. For one, he felt no burn of jealousy at their obviously close friendship. For another, he felt no animosity toward the others, no resentment for old injuries, and no need to be on guard. He had become rather used to the fact that he didn’t hate Potter any more, but Black?

Severus threw the apple core away and stood as the three approached. He studied Black with dispassionate interest. The man looked younger, healthier than when he’d died, but not as young and healthy as Remus and Potter. Why was that, he wondered. Black was eyeing him, but the usual blunt force of his hatred didn’t seem to be there. Either that, or Severus simply didn’t care enough to be aware of it.

No, Severus would have noticed, had it been there. He found that he _didn’t_ care, nor could he be bothered to muster up any animosity of his own. The feelings just weren’t there anymore.

Odd.

Black met his gaze then dropped his eyes for a moment and gave the briefest of nods. When he looked up, Severus returned it, then – really, he had no interest in Black – turned to Remus.

“Ready to go?"

“Yeah.” The man had the most idiotic grin on his face.

Severus nodded to Potter and turned, sliding an arm around his lover’s waist as they walked toward the path home.

Once through the forest and in sight of the cottage, Remus looked down at Severus.

“You know how you asked me, a while back, what you looked like?”

Severus nodded. He hadn’t thought about it lately.

Remus stopped and tilted Severus’ face up to the sun.

“You look young. All the harsh lines are gone; you look like a man who has never known pain, or loss, or hate.”

“Boring?” Severus cocked an eyebrow.

“Fantastic.” The word was breathed against his lips just before Remus kissed him.

~~

He found Remus standing in the middle of the dirt road that ran past their cottage. He was looking North, a direction they never went.

"All right?" He looked up the empty road, then at his lover.

Remus had a puzzled frown on his face. "Have you ever walked that way?"

"Yes." Severus shrugged. "It loops around in a circle, joining just below the field where you meet the others. It's odd that it doesn't go anywhere, but a lot of things are odd around here."

"A circle?" Remus seemed a bit agitated. "How far? How long is the road?"

"Under two miles, I'd say. What's wrong?"

Remus shook his head, and tore his eyes off the road. "I walked that way, once, before you came here. Went about three miles, then turned back. I don't know…. It was almost like the Muggle repelling spells we use, only it affected me." He looked down the road once more. "But it certainly didn't circle back."

Severus felt uneasy. "Does it matter? Surely you could walk that way again, if you wanted to know where it went." He stared down the dusty road to where it wound out of sight around the hill. The air was hot and utterly still, as if the world was holding its breath.

Remus pushed his hair off his forehead. "I think… I think it _does_ matter. I think, if I go that way, far enough, I won't come back."

Severus felt his stomach drop. "And you want to go?"

"I feel as though…. Yes. I think it's time." He turned his eyes on Severus, and a smile smoothed out the wrinkles of thought. "But I'll not be going anywhere without you."

"No?" Severus felt an almost overwhelming relief wash over him.

"No." Remus brushed a kiss across Severus' cheek. "Nowhere, not ever."

Severus looked down the road again. "And you think that it might not circle back? Even if I'm with you?"

Remus' eyes glowed with warmth. "I think not; not this time." He cocked his head. "Do you want to go?"

Without thinking, Severus reached out his hand, and Remus entwined their fingers. He looked over at their cozy cottage sitting amidst its colorful garden, then down the road in the opposite direction.

"Yes." He smiled at Remus. "I think I’m ready."

~~ end ~~


End file.
